


E is for Explosions

by partypaprika



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 18:28:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5302217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partypaprika/pseuds/partypaprika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon's had his reasons for requesting a transfer back to the CIA and working on his own for the past few years. But, when Gaby shows up and asks for his help in extracting Illya, Napoleon finds that he can't say no, even if it means giving up the life that he's built for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	E is for Explosions

Napoleon mentally groaned when he got to his hotel room door. Napoleon appreciated a good bit of fair play espionage as much as the next spy, but he had just finished a very trying day, featuring a back alley foot chase, no less than three people shooting at him and ripping the sleeve on one of his favorite suit jackets. The suit jacket alone would be a pain to have fixed. All that Napoleon wanted to do was take a nice long bath and have a glass of whisky. He had even thought about seeing when the hostess at the hotel’s restaurant got off work. 

 

However, someone had clearly entered his suite at the Hotel le Bristol, thus negating any immediate hopes of relaxation. As Napoleon slowly turned the door knob, he used his other hand to unholster his gun and turn the safety off. Napoleon was a big proponent of the school of thought behind 'better safe than sorry.' Especially when it came to uninvited hotel guests. 

 

Once Napoleon opened the door enough to see into the room, he froze. Napoleon hadn't been sure what to expect; statistics favored it being some angry Moroccans from his most recent importuned escapades. Although based on Napoleon's track history, he was pretty much fair game for anyone. And yet, of all the people that Napoleon had thought to see sitting in one of his lounge chaises and regarding him coolly, Gaby Teller hadn't been anywhere near the top of the list.  

 

For the briefest of seconds, Napoleon’s heart twisted in a flare of bittersweet excitement before Napoleon clamped down on the rush of emotion. He flashed Gaby a smile and closed the door behind him, holstering his gun. “Ah,” he started to say, getting ready to greet her, but Gaby held up a finger to her lips indicating silence. Napoleon stopped where he was and remained still, quickly scanning the room for any threats. But, Gaby just stood up and strode over purposefully to Napoleon. Still indicating that Napoleon should stay silent, Gaby began quickly running her hands over Napoleon’s suit, her hands working quickly and methodically. She pulled out a bug in Napoleon’s breast pocket and one underneath his collar before she stepped back.

 

Napoleon shook his head and reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out the last of the CIA bugs on him. He handed it to Gaby who tossed the three bugs into a small bowl filled with four or five other bugs, presumably from around the room. She then flicked on a cassette player that had been placed on the table. Instantly the cassette recording began playing the sounds of someone clicking a remote and turning the TV on, directly in the middle of a show, which appeared to be a rerun of  _I Love Lucy_.

 

Once that had been completed, Gaby jerked her head and indicated that Napoleon should follow her. She led him into the bedroom of the suite. As they walked, Napoleon took the chance to subtly look at Gaby. Although he had been keeping tabs on her over the past few years, as Napoleon was sure that Gaby did the same for him, photographs didn’t even begin to do Gaby justice. His breath was taken away by just how beautiful she was in person. She still carried herself with that tantalizing air of disinterest, as if she didn't care in the slightest if one disappeared off the face of the earth forever. Although Napoleon now knew better, he couldn’t help but smile before he forced himself to think critically about the situation that he was now in.

 

Gaby wore a sleeveless white button down with a pair of black capris that she made look fashionable although it was a choice for comfort. So this was work, rather than a social call. And one that she didn’t want the CIA to know about. Napoleon was intrigued.

 

“Gaby," Napoleon said once Gaby had securely closed the bedroom doors behind them.

 

Gaby gave Napoleon a soft smile. "Napoleon."

 

 "What a wonderful surprise it is to see you,” Napoleon said. “You look stunning as always. To what do I owe the honor?”

 

Gaby flicked her eyes up in a bit of an eye roll, but the smile on her lips gave her away. Napoleon had long since stopped giving himself points where Gaby and Illya were concerned, but even so, he couldn't help but give himself a plus for amusing her. 

 

On a roll, Napoleon gave her his best charming smile. “Where’s Peril today? Is he still so angry that he refused to come? Peril's ability to hold a grudge is quite impressive.” Since Napoleon’s return to the CIA, Illya had only interacted with Napoleon on strict orders. Napoleon wasn’t naïve enough to think that was the only time that Illya saw Napoleon, but it did mean that their actual meetings were few and far between. However, instead of responding with a quip, Gaby’s lips flattened and she turned to walk towards the curtained window, her back to Napoleon.

 

“That is actually why I am here,” Gaby said eventually. Napoleon kept silent, waiting for Gaby to continue. “I have come to ask for help. Illya was caught on a recent mission by a fringe paramilitary group.” Instantly, Napoleon's stomach dropped. Objectively he knew that any one of them could, at any moment, be caught and imprisoned or tortured. They were spies and Napoleon had no illusions about what happened to spies. But even so, Illya had always seemed the most invincible spy that Napoleon knew. For god’s sake, Illya had once almost torn apart a working car.

 

“I’m sorry,” Napoleon said finally.

 

“I need your help in extracting him,” Gaby said. She turned away from the window and looked back at Napoleon.

 

Napoleon swallowed. “I wish that I could, but we both know that I’m no longer affiliated with U.N.C.L.E. and Uncle Sam is quite touchy about sharing his toys. Won’t Russia be leading the negotiation or extraction anyways?”

 

Gaby shook her head. “The group that has kidnapped Illya has made very high ransom demands. They will only agree to a release if Russia will release some of their prisoners affiliated with this group. But, Russia has been secretly supplying the communist groups fighting against this organization with funds and weapons. Russia has also been claiming publicly that they are and will not be involved with the current political upheaval in this region. If the extraction failed or the negotiation and release leaked, it would be disastrous for Russia. Therefore, they have deemed the situation too politically sensitive to proceed.”

 

"So they’re out," Napoleon said, his mind racing as he tried to figure out the specifics and read inbetween Gaby's words. When he got it, his jaw tightened. “Surely, Waverly isn’t just going to leave Illya there.”

 

“Waverly's hands are tied by U.N.C.L.E.’s policy. The high political sensitivity and the low risk to global security of the status quo means that they will not intervene. If there was something that Waverly could do, he would. But he’s responsible for more agents than just Illya and has to consider how his actions would play out.”

 

Napoleon sighed. “The CIA is preparing to send me on a deep cover mission when I return to Washington, they won’t consent to a loan or an independent mission.”

 

“I know,” Gaby said. Napoleon began to pace as he thought. Gaby knew that she was asking Napoleon to go rogue. As much as he wanted to believe her, Napoleon had been mislead before. By Gaby herself, in fact. But, at the same time, if what Gaby was saying was true, well, Napoleon’s stomach felt like it was rapidly filling with lead.

 

“How do I know that I can trust you?” Napoleon said finally. Gaby looked back at him, more serious than he had ever seen her.

 

“You don’t,” she said. And well, that was that. Leave it to Gaby to break something down to its simplest pieces: did Napoleon blindly trust Gaby or not? 

 

After a long minute, Napoleon nodded once at her and Gaby walked over to hand Napoleon a white business card. On it was printed in Gaby’s neat handwriting, “12:30, news stand, Orly Airport.” 

 

Without warning, she then reached up a hand and cupped Napoleon’s face, running her thumb gently over Napoleon’s cheekbone. “We have missed you,” she said. Then, before Napoleon could respond, she withdrew her hand and headed over to the bedroom door. After giving a brief wave, she exited through the suite, the hotel door closing quietly behind her.

 

Napoleon stood there for a few seconds, his fingers gently running over the edges of the card. Eventually he tucked the card into his suit pocket and then went back into the living room where he poured himself three fingers of whiskey and all but collapsed into a chair.

 

 ***

 

Napoleon arrived at Orly Airport at 12:15 p.m., giving himself some time to scope out the newsstand immediately inside. He’d brought only himself and a few fake IDs as well as currency in five major currencies. Napoleon figured that he had, at most, a three to four hour window before the CIA realized that he’d gone rogue. If he managed to survive the extraction (and Gaby didn’t turn him over to someone as part of a set-up), Napoleon would have to make his way to a country without an extradition treaty to the US, where he also could likely evade detection, at least for a few years. Panama was looking like the winner.

 

At 12:30 p.m., on the dot, Gaby walked up to the newsstand, carrying two medium sized suitcases. She had gone to some length to disguise herself, trading her usual long and sleek dark brown hair for a slightly unruly, dirty blond bob. Gaby wore a pair of thick framed glasses, making her look even more serious than usual, which was at odds with her outfit: a pair of jeans with a tucked in blouse and sneakers, as if she was going for out for a quick run to the store instead of on a flight.

 

After a minute of watching her, Napoleon stopped putting off the inevitable and walked over to the newsstand. As soon as Gaby spotted Napoleon, her body relaxed minutely, as if she had been concerned that he wouldn’t show.

 

“Hello darling,” Napoleon said as he gave her a mock salute. Gaby smiled and handed over one of the suitcases.

 

“Here, this is for you,” she said, skipping any pleasantries.

 

“How kind of you to pack for me,” Napoleon said. Gaby’s smile widened as she handed two tickets and a passport over to Napoleon. Napoleon took a minute to examine the tickets: apparently they were flying to Bogota via Miami. Next, Napoleon flipped open the passport to reveal a mustached version of himself with messy hair. He read the name below the picture and forced himself not to smile.

 

“Duke Compagnie, that’s cute,” Napoleon said. “Very cute.”

 

Gaby shrugged modestly. “I do what I can. Now, as your wife, Kristine, I should remind you that we should get going. We have our flight soon and you’ll want to change to get more comfortable.” She gestured towards the suitcase.

 

Once Napoleon was in the bathroom, he opened up the suitcase and unsuccessfully tried to suppress a wince. Gaby had packed a set of jeans for him and several t-shirts. She had also included what appeared to be a generic department store button down t-shirt and slacks. She’d even included a fake moustache, presumably to help make Napoleon marginally less identifiable, but conceivably just as an extended way of torturing him. Gaby may have asked Napoleon for help, but Napoleon was the first to know that didn’t mean that she had forgiven him for his past transgressions either. Sighing, Napoleon changed out of his three-piece suit and put his proscribed outfit. After a minute of fidgeting with the mustache, he finally accepted his fate and left the bathroom.

 

“Is this really necessary?” Napoleon asked once he approached Gaby.

 

“Yes, as we are a fairly modest young couple who cannot afford fancy attire,” Gaby gave Napoleon a slow once over as well and he tried not to preen. She frowned, apparently dissatisfied with something, and then reached up to gently run her fingers through Napoleon’s hair. Napoleon’s hands started to rise of their own accord until Gaby pushed them away. “Stop that. There—much better. Don’t worry, you still manage to look as you always do. Besides, I quite like the rugged, mustached look myself.” Satisfied with her work, Gaby picked up her suitcase and indicated that Napoleon should follow her as she started to make her way through the terminal.

 

“So, dearest,” Napoleon said. “Are you going to tell me more about our upcoming vacation? I know it’s been a long-held dream of mine to travel to Colombia, so I’m excited for what we have in store.”

 

“Well, as we are young teachers who are taking a sabbatical for our honeymoon, we have always wanted to see the world,” Gaby said. She looked up at Napoleon and then linked her arm through his. There was the familiar tingle when her arm pressed against his that Napoleon did his best to ignore. “We will of course be seeing the many sights that Bogota has to offer before we go to visit my cousin in Giradot. I’m sure that we will make plenty of new friends while we are in Giradot, exploring the city.”

 

“We have always been a very adventurous couple,” Napoleon said. “And we are extremely friendly.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

 ***

 

They arrived in Bogota almost twenty four hours late and Napoleon knew that both he and Gaby felt every minute of those hours. Neither had slept much on the planes, although Gaby had managed to fall asleep on his shoulder on the flight from Miami to Bogota. A stronger man would have probably gently pushed Gaby so that she leaned against the window, but Napoleon hadn’t been able to move.

 

He had sat there completely immobile until the stewardess had come by with some drinks, waking Gaby up. For a brief moment, Gaby had looked over at Napoleon, the rare soft and bleary smile on her face that Napoleon remembered before she composed herself, a more distanced and neutral mask on her face as she turned to the stewardess to ask for water. Her nap had been the highlight of the flight. But now they were in Bogota, only slightly warmer than Paris, and desperately in need of a shower.

 

They caught a cab into town where the cab driver dropped them off at what appeared to be a hostel.

 

“No,” Napoleon said as Gaby pulled out some pesos to pay the driver. “No, no, no. I am putting my foot down. As your husband, I insist that we find different accommodations.”

 

“Well, it's a good thing that I am a liberated woman," Gaby said as she turned to the driver. "Muchas gracias,” she said, smiling. The driver gave Gaby a charmed smile and waved her off as he got back into his car.

 

“I am not staying here,” Napoleon hissed into Gaby’s ear as a young woman came out of the hostel door, giving them both an odd look.

 

“Darling, I know that you wish to take me to the nicest places, but I understand that we should not attract any negative attention by going outside our means. You are so sweet.” Napoleon gave Gaby a look back that said that he didn’t do hostels or any kind of shared accommodation. Not only was it an insult to Napoleon’s pride, but it would hinder any preparation or private discussions. Gaby gave Napoleon a look that said that she had it covered. That she more than had it covered. That is Napoleon pushed this, she would not be afraid to drug Napoleon and leave him in the middle of the South American rain forest.

 

“I would like it to be noted that I am still objecting,” Napoleon said finally. Gaby ignored him as she left the luggage with him and went to the front desk. 

 

Gaby checked in while Napoleon surveyed the clientele. Most of the people coming and going were in their late twenties and early thirties. There were a few Europeans, mixed in with Americans. Almost everyone looked like they were backpackers, probably making their way through South America. When Gaby finished, she nudged Napoleon gently. "We've got our own room, Duke." She said it almost excitedly, as if they had just gotten lucky rather than through the careful negotiation that Napoleon had just overheard between Gaby and the proprietress. But Napoleon didn’t say anything, just following Gaby up two flights of stairs and down a hall past a series of open rooms filled with bunk beds. When they got to the end of the hallway, Gaby unlocked a door that led to a room with four bunk beds and then closed the door behind them.  
  
Napoleon dropped his suitcase on the lower bunk farthest away from the door and then immediately began sweeping the room for bugs. Gaby started up as well and for a brief moment, Napoleon could imagine that it was 1963 and they were on a routine mission, Illya outside doing surveillance. But once they finished, Gaby pulled out a few maps, shattering the momentary illusion.  
  
"What do we know?" Napoleon said.  
  
"Illya initially came to Bogota to try and track a terrorist associated with one of the government's fringe paramilitary groups. They call themselves 'Asociación para la defensa de Colombia' or ADC. The ADC is one of the more extreme paramilitary groups in Colombia and they have been known to use very heavy-handed tactics." Gaby pulled out a map of Colombia. She unfolded it and pointed to a spot southwest of Bogota. "I was able to track Illya through Giradot and I believe that they didn't take him too far. There are several ADC sites near to Giradot but their main compound is near to the town of La Canada, about an hour away."

“What is our plan here?” Napoleon asked.

 

Gaby huffed. “Aren’t you always the one who’s trying to control a situation?”

 

“Are you asking me to come up with a plan, Ms. Teller? To be the brains of the operations? And here, I thought you brought me along for my rugged good looks.” Napoleon said.

 

Gaby rolled her eyes. “I’ve arranged a rental car in the morning—it’s as untraceable as we can get it and we will be driving towards Giradot and La Canada,” Gaby said. “I think that our best bet is to start with La Canada, see if I can scout out any of the major players and get information on where he’s being held. In order to do the actual extraction, we’ll need to get the blueprints and infiltrate where he’s being held. That is the plan that I propose.”

 

Napoleon turned it over in his head. “How will we recognize the major players?”

 

Gaby pulled out an envelope and pulled out ten pictures. “These are the ten people who are most likely to know where Illya has been taken.” She pointed to one, a fat man with a thick beard. “This is the terrorist that Illya was tracking, Nino Reyes.” Napoleon nodded. Gaby gestured to another man, this one slightly less fat with a reedy mustache, holding an automatic gun. “This is Alberto Reyes, his brother. Alberto is the main leader of the ADC. He has two men working directly underneath him, Raul Garcia and Victor Gonzalez.” Gaby continued through the rest of the leadership of the ADC and Napoleon committed each picture to memory.

 

When she finished, Napoleon smiled. “It’s a good plan,” he said. “It gives us a good start.” Neither one of them needed to say that no battle plan survived first contact with the enemy. Thankfully, they were both good at improvising.

  
Napoleon ran through a few potential end-game scenarios in his mind. "What is ADC planning on doing with Illya? They must be aware that Russia isn't willing to extract him due to the political sensitivity."  
  
Gaby looked down at the map. "This group has been unhappy with Russia, and by extension, U.N.C.L.E. for quite some time. Capturing Illya was quite a coup for them. They will probably torture him for information about Russia's assistance of the communist rebels. Illya is unlikely to break, so when it becomes apparent that they will not glean anything and he loses his usefulness as a political prisoner, I imagine they plan to kill him as a message to Russia," she said.  
  
Napoleon's stomach turned and he told himself that they weren't talking about Illya but a random operative to be rescued. "What is the expected time frame?" Napoleon said, making an effort to keep his voice level, as if they were discussing the weather.  
  
"The ADC gave Russia five days to respond. Illya was taken three days ago, which gives us a little more than two days before Russia formally denies the offer."  
  
"And I imagine that they won't have any use for him after that," Napoleon said.  
  
Gaby turned her head slightly away from Napoleon and she swallowed before she spoke, "That's correct."  
  
Napoleon, god help him, tentatively placed his hand on her shoulder. For a long second, Gaby didn’t do anything and then she brought up her opposite hand and reached back to gently lay it over Napoleon’s.

 

 ***

 

Neither Napoleon nor Gaby stayed up much later, exhausted by their day of travel. After they cleaned up (Napoleon grimacing again at communal bathrooms—if he had wanted to share a bathroom with others, he would have stayed in the army), both of them settled into their beds on respective sides of the room.

 

Napoleon dropped into an uneasy sleep and when he woke the moon was still shining brightly through the window. He had turned over onto his side on his sleep and was facing Gaby. Across the room, he could see her lying on her back, perfectly still, just as awake as he.  Napoleon eventually fell back asleep, but he felt like he watched her for hours, just looking at the way that the pale moonlight fell across her face.

 

 

 

The next morning, both he and Gaby were up before five. They dressed with single mindedness and were outside before the sun had even risen. Gaby led Napoleon down the street, walking through several small alleyways before they arrived at a major street. She walked up to a dilapidated Renault and unlocked it.

 

“Oh Kristine, darling, you always buy me the nicest things,” Napoleon said, once they got inside.

 

“Only for you, Duke,” Gaby said. She turned the key in the ignition only to elicit the grinding sound of the engine turning. Gaby grimaced and then tried again. This time, she was successful and the engine sputtered to life. Gaby couldn’t hide her mechanic’s disgust at the sound that the car’s engine made, but after shaking her head once, she pulled out onto the street to begin the drive.

 

Neither of them spoke as Gaby drove through the city. Only when they reached the outskirts, the houses beginning to give way, did Gaby strike up a conversation. At first, she fed him softball questions, questions about non-classified information from Napoleon’s recent missions, which Napoleon should have realized was a set-up. But Napoleon was still caught out—smiling even from recounting his exploits in Morocco—when Gaby asked the question.

 

“So, Napoleon,” Gaby said, light as a breeze. “I can never really remember—why did you leave the team again?”

 

Napoleon felt the smile on his face freeze and he looked outside the window. “Oh, you know,” Napoleon said, with as much jocularity as he could force into his voice. “I wanted to devote more time to Uncle Sam...”

 

Gaby made a noise of agreement. “That’s what I thought you said,” she said, and for a brief moment, Napoleon felt a mixture of relief and bitterness. But then Gaby continued, “You know, I asked Waverly to look into it.”

 

“Did you?” Napoleon said.

 

“Waverly can be quite tenacious when he wants to be. And he seemed to think that it was less about serving your country and more about the personnel. "

 

Napoleon didn’t say anything. After a long silence, Gaby finally spoke again. “So you had a problem with Illya and myself.” It wasn’t a question.

 

Gaby looked over at Napoleon, searching for something. “That’s it? No other explanation? I know that can’t be it,” she said, her voice tight. The irony, Napoleon thought, was that it was just the opposite in fact, although he kept his mouth firmly closed.

 

"No," Napoleon said. “I think that just about covers it.”

 

Gaby sighed. "You are an asshole. I know you're hiding something, Napoleon Solo, and I will find out what it is." 

 

Napoleon couldn't help laughing. "We're spies--every single one of us has something to hide." 

 

 

 

They arrived in La Canada by mid-morning. The town wasn't much to look, although they headed towards the center of what was there and set up shop in an anonymous apartment across from a series of seedy looking bars. 

 

"Are these likely to play host to some of our friends later?" Napoleon asked while he looked out the window, gauging various exit routes in case they needed it later. 

 

"Yes, I think so," Gaby said. She pulled out some equipment from her suitcase and handed a bug to Napoleon, which he dropped in his pocket. She pulled out a ring from the suitcase and put it on. Napoleon raised his eyebrow. 

 

"Is that the same one?" he said. Gaby looked over, confused for a second before she smiled wide. 

 

"Ah, well, not the same tracker. I removed the tracker after our first mission, but I kept the ring. I always did like it and it's come in use before." She looked at the ring fondly. Napoleon felt the usual sucker punch of guilt.  

 

Napoleon turned towards the door. "We should split up, see if either of us can get any useful information." He started to open the door when something soft hit the back of his head. Napoleon turned to see a t-shirt on the ground. 

 

"You should wear that," Gaby said. "At least to look marginally less obvious." Napoleon sighed, but stripped off his button down and put on the t-shirt, feeling essentially naked. When he looked up, Gaby was watching him appraisingly and embarrassingly enough, Napoleon felt himself blush. 

 

"I'll be back by noon," Napoleon said and all but fled the apartment in his haste to get almost anywhere but there. 

 

 

 

 

When the two of them reconvened at 12 p.m., they'd had varying levels of success. "The local leaders of ADC tend to hang out at that bar there," Napoleon said, pointing down at one of the bars below them. They also have several ADC-associated locations around the city." Gaby pulled out a map and Napoleon began to point at locations around the city. "They've got a munitions factory just outside the city limits here as well as a warehouse over here." 

 

Gaby nodded and then marked both of the spots on the map. "Alberto Reyes keeps an apartment here, however he is rarely in town. But, the two men directly underneath him, Raul Garcia and Victor Gonzalez, they’re often seen in town. They live here and here. I think that Victor and Raul are our best shot at getting information as they’re likely to have access to most of the ADC information.

 

Napoleon smiled. “Let the games begin.”

 

 

 

 

Napoleon went into the busiest bar first and did a spot check, finding Raul and Victor with a large group of their cohorts at the bar. Napoleon ordered a beer and then headed to a small table close enough to overhear Raul’s and Victor’s groups. Raul appeared to be quieter, mainly listening in on the loud conversations going around him. Victor was clearly the more charismatic and attention-seeking of the two of them. He kept loudly interrupting other people in order to tell stories featuring himself. Napoleon allowed himself a small smile. Bingo. 

 

When Gaby entered the bar, she looked over at Napoleon and he subtly nodded towards Victor. She nodded once to indicate that she understood and walked over to the bar, keeping a fair amount of distance between her and Victor's group. 

 

Almost instantly, Victor noticed Gaby and began orienting himself towards her. After a moment where he blatantly checked her out, he moved over to stand next to her at the bar while Gaby waited to order. 

 

Gaby would never be the kind of spy who could seduce every Tom, Dick and Harry. But she had a unique appeal to the people that they often ran across in their line of business. To people who were used to getting everything that they wanted, her usual mask of disinterest and apathy might as well have been a neon sign. 

 

Sure enough, when Victor struck up conversation with Gaby, Gaby made polite conversation in Spanish back but looked like she really would have preferred to be by herself, which Victor apparently found charming. 

 

"You know, I am a lieutenant colonel for ADC," Victor said, proudly. 

 

Gaby gave a bit of an apathetic shrug. "Sure..." she said, turning back to her drink. 

 

"Surely you've heard of the Asociacion para la defensa de Colombia," Victor said. When Gaby shrugged again, Victor launched into the importance of the ADC and how they were saving Colombia. 

 

"Is it really so dangerous here in La Canada?" Gaby asked, her voice dismissive. Napoleon suppressed a smile. 

 

Victor gave Gaby a wide and knowing smile before leaning in. "Oh yes," he said. "Those communists will stop at nothing to get control of this company. They even sent a Russian spy here--that's how threatened they are by us." 

 

Gaby looked shocked. "A Russian spy? Here in La Canada?" She sounded a little dubious. 

 

"Oh yes," Victor said. "Which is why our work is so important." 

 

"I suppose," Gaby said, sounding a little intrigued despite herself. "That does sound dangerous. What will the government do with the spy?"

 

Victor made a dismissive sound. "The government would just hand him back over to Russia or put him in jail. They're too weak to know what needs to be done to protect our country." 

 

"So he's here?" Gaby said, sounding a little scared. "But what if he escapes? Couldn't he kill us all?" 

 

Victor smiled, clearly feeling like he had Gaby right where he wanted her. "He won't escape, but even if he managed to get out, we have him safely away from the town--he'd die in the wilderness before he found help. He won't be able to hurt anyone, especially you," he said, gently touching Gaby's back. 

 

Perfect. 

 

 

They both hung around for a little while longer, to see if they could get anymore relevant information. When Victor starting moving in for the kill, Gaby excused herself to go the bathroom and didn't come back--presumably leaving out of the back exit. Napoleon waited a few more minutes but didn't hear anything of note before he left as well, making sure to double back around the street before he entered their building. 

 

Once Napoleon got inside the apartment, he didn’t see Gaby anywhere. Napoleon went over to the window, trying to see if he could find her outside. After a few minutes, he saw her coming out the long end of the street—she must have had to walk around the block—and Napoleon breathed a sigh of relief.

 

Unfortunately, Victor and his friends chose to exit the bar at the exact same time. Victor and his friends were clearly drunk and they encircled Gaby, all of them cajoling her on behalf of Victor. Gaby tried to subtly get away, but they were too persistent and drunk.

 

“Shit,” Napoleon muttered underneath his breath. Gaby clearly had the capabilities to fight her way out, but if she did, she was all but telling the ADC that there were more spies in town. Napoleon grabbed an extra clip for his gun and bolted out of the apartment, running down the stairs as fast as he could.

 

By the time that Napoleon made it downstairs, Victor had managed to half-pull a reluctant Gaby towards a car. Napoleon pulled out his gun, prepared to shoot, but Gaby made eye –contact with him and shook her head. “Blueprints,” she mouthed at Napoleon.

 

Napoleon cursed but holstered his gun and stepped back into the shadows in order to not attract any attention.

 

Napoleon hurried up to the apartment and went through Gaby’s equipment until he found the portable tracker screen. Napoleon stifled a sigh—he hated these things. After a couple minutes of fiddling with it, Napoleon was able to pull up Gaby’s tracker. As always, the location was imprecise, but by comparing it with the map that he had of the area, he was able to figure out that Victor was taking Gaby to his apartment.

 

Using their trusty Renault, Napoleon sped off towards Victor’s apartment, trying to remind himself that Gaby was more than capable of taking care of herself if the push came down to shove. It didn’t make him feel a lot better, but Napoleon forced himself to be rational.

 

When Napoleon pulled up to Victor’s apartment building, he saw a series of lights on at the topmost apartment. Napoleon took the stairs up to the apartment, making sure to avoid the one or two other tenants that were also coming through. When he got to Victor’s door, Napoleon waited for a few seconds, trying to see if he could hear anything on the inside. It was almost completely quiet.

 

Napoleon slowly opened up the unlocked door—presumably left for him by Gaby—and peeked inside. He couldn’t help but laugh quietly as he closed the door behind him. Victor was asleep on his couch and Gaby was quickly going through the drawers in his apartment.

 

“Are you--?” Napoleon started to ask, but Gaby shot him a look so Napoleon stopped and began to search as well, starting with the bedroom.

 

“Aha!” Napoleon said when he found a large stack of papers in disarray in the corner of the room. He flipped through them until he found what he was looking for: partial blueprints for the warehouse, as well as several of the other ADC facilities. Napoleon grabbed all of them and went out to find Gaby.

 

“Any luck?” Gaby asked. Napoleon smiled and held up the stack of papers.

 

Gaby smiled grimly. “Then it was worth it.”

 

 

 

 

The two of them left quietly and made their way back to the apartment. Gaby immediately started to pack up their gear. “We know that they’re hiding him in the warehouse—it’s the only place remote enough to make an escape on foot deadly one way or the other.” Napoleon said as he took out the paper with the blueprints on them.

 

“Exactly,” Gaby said. “And we’ve got maybe five hours before my new friend wakes up and realizes that something is not as it should be. We don’t have much time.”

 

“Plus, I think I have an idea for how we can get him out,” Napoleon said, smiling as he looked closely at the building structures.

 

 

 

Gaby drove the Renault most of the way to the warehouse, which was in a forested area about an hour south of the town. Once they left the main road, Gaby turned off the headlights. The road quickly became little more than a dirt path. When they could see lights up ahead, Gaby turned off the road and drove far enough to hide them from anyone driving to the compound.

 

“I’m not sure that this is a good idea,” Gaby said as they sat there in the dark. “There are too many variables.

 

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Napoleon said. “Based on the blueprints, this warehouse is quite large and Illya could be held almost anywhere. We will get caught if we’re just trying to find him through sheer, dumb luck. And we need a clear way to get out.”

 

“But what if it doesn’t work,” Gaby said.

 

“Trust me,” Napoleon said. “It will work.”

 

Gaby turned and looked at him, really looked at him. Before Napoleon could react, she leaned in close and pressed a quick kiss to Napoleon’s lips. “Fine, go.” And then she turned and looked steadfastly to the front.

 

Napoleon resisted the urge to touch his lips and slowly opened up the door. His mind felt like a TV that had been left on past a channel’s airtime and was now just a fritz of snow. Napoleon’s body kept moving on autopilot, slowly creeping towards the edge of the forest until he had a full view of the compound.

 

Pull it together, he told himself sternly. But it wasn’t until he saw a guard walking across the grounds that Napoleon snapped to attention.

 

Napoleon followed the man silently for a few minutes, until he felt certain that the man was just a regular guard and wouldn’t be missed for a while. When the man went into a small maintenance room, Napoleon followed him in and closed the door quietly behind him. Napoleon abstractly wished for Illya’s special freeze hold, but settled for just knocking the man out and stripping him out of his uniform before stashing the man in the room and locking the door.

 

Once that was done, Napoleon began quickly moving through the grounds. He had about thirty minutes, give or take, before the man woke up and started making noise, where Napoleon needed to solidly scout out the compound. As Napoleon walked, he marked his pathway with little trackers for Gaby back in the car.

 

Unfortunately, the grounds were just as big as Napoleon had feared and as he approached the twenty minute mark, the only rooms of note that he’d found had been one of the arms storage rooms and a command room. Napoleon hadn’t even seen that many people. For a place that clearly saw a lot of use, people had to be somewhere on the grounds, which meant that if Napoleon kept going, he was going to end up with an unpleasant surprise.

 

Just when Napoleon was thinking about heading back and regrouping with Gaby, he turned the corner and ran straight into a group of young, armed men laughing and chatting with each other.

 

“Watch where you’re walking!” one of them called. Napoleon nodded and kept his face down, walking at the same rate through the crowd. “Fucking idiot,” the guy finished.

 

“Hey, wait,” someone else said slowly and that was all the warning that Napoleon needed because he took off running down the hall, and quickly turning down the first hallway that he found. Behind him, Napoleon could hear the men swearing and Napoleon started running faster. Only, when he turned right down the next hallway, he ran into a group of three older men, including Illya’s initial target, Nino Reyes. Before Napoleon could even speak, all three men had their guns out and trained on Napoleon. Napoleon slowly raised his hands. Before anyone could say anything, something hit Napoleon’s head from behind and then everything went black.

 

 

 

 

When Napoleon woke up, he was strapped into a chair in the middle of the warehouse, looking straight at Illya. Illya didn't look too good--he had one black eye and multiple places where his lip had split. He was shirtless and had mottled bruises all over his chest and two vivid large bruises over his ribcage indicating at least two broken ribs. Illya had been strapped to the chair, his wrists tied against the chair's arms and his ankles taped to the chair's legs. A gag had been placed over his mouth. And yet, Illya still managed to look completely enraged. 

 

"Ah, hello, Peril. It's great to see you again," Napoleon said. 

 

Illya made a noise against the gag. 

 

"Right now, I'm imagining that you're saying 'Da, Cowboy, how great to see you as well. How I have missed you so much over these past few years. You are as attractive and manly as ever,'" Napoleon said. 

 

Illya half-growled, plainly displeased. 

 

"Alright, alright," Napoleon said. "You are probably saying 'What in Mother Russia's name are you doing here?'" Napoleon said in his best Russian accent. He then paused for a second. "You know, I fancied a bit of a vacation. I thought, why not try a hostile compound in Colombia for a bit of sun and torture?"

 

Before Napoleon could say anything, a small group of men came into the room, all of them heavily armed. At the head of the group, Napoleon recognized Nino. Excellent. 

 

"So, Russia thinks that they can best us by bringing in another spy?" Nino said, addressing Napoleon. "We will show them how we treat Russian spies. Your friend can tell you all about our hospitality." 

 

Napoleon sighed and addressed Nino in his best Spanish. "American. I imagine that Russia is disinclined to care one way or the other about how you treat me." Illya made a frustrated noise which Napoleon chose to ignore. 

 

"American? You were sent by the CIA? Or U.N.C.L.E.?" Nino asked, caught off guard. 

 

"Ah, no, I see your mistake," Napoleon said. Illya began making loud noises that Napoleon ignored as he spoke. "Formerly of the CIA. And I suppose, U.N.C.L.E. before that. But most recently of the CIA. Now, I'm more of a...freelancer." 

 

"A freelancer?" Nino said. 

 

Illya shot Napoleon a look that clearly said to shut up and remain as unobtrusive as possible. Napoleon winked at Illya. If it was possible for Illya to look even more annoyed, he did. God help him, even Illya's annoyed face made Napoleon almost happily at ease.

 

"Yes, you know, I pick my missions, set my own hours, that sort of thing. Gives me a bit more freedom to choose my schedule, spend time with the family, the usual."

 

Before Nino could say anything, Napoleon heard the sound of an explosion going off in the distance. Less than a second later, the ground rocked and the lights in the warehouse flickered and then went out. There was some heavy Spanish cursing and Nino shouted at some of his men to go investigate. 

 

A few seconds after the men presumably left the room, there was some banging and some further yelling in the room, as everyone scrambled. Without any warning, Napoleon felt a knife smoothly cut through the ropes around his right wrist. As soon as his right wrist was free, Napoleon reached down and pulled out a knife hidden in his shoe, which he used to cut through the ropes holding down his left arm and then his legs. By this time, the remaining men had found their lighters and flicked them on to reveal Gaby advancing rapidly on them. 

 

They began shooting at her and she ran and ducked for cover behind the shipment boxes. While the four or so men were occupied with shooting Gaby, Napoleon began cutting through Illya's gag. When Napoleon pushed it down, he whispered, "Can you walk?"

 

"Of course," Illya said. "I am not wimpy American who likes to chat with bad guys." 

 

"Ha ha, that's me: chatting with the bad guys to buy us time with Gaby tracks me. So wimpy." 

 

Illya made a moue of disagreement as Napoleon switched to cutting through the ropes holding down Illya's hands. 

 

"What is the plan for getting out?" Illya said. 

 

"You know, we hadn't really thought that far," Napoleon said. At Illya's gasp of horror, Napoleon rolled his eyes. "Kidding, kidding. I take it that you haven't found a sense of humor since I saw you last. I planted explosives around parts of the compound before I allowed them to take me so I could find you --we will have to fight our way out of the building, but once we get outside, we'll blow the explosives to give us a distraction to escape. Does that meet your standards, Peril?"

 

Illya frowned which meant that he couldn't think of anything better. Or that he was in serious enough pain to just accept what Napoleon had put forth, but Napoleon refused to admit that as a working hypothesis. Once Napoleon had freed Illya's arms and legs, he helped Illya stand up. Illya immediately teetered forward on his legs, meaning that Napoleon had to quickly reach out to catch Illya and support him. So, that was a negative on the walking.

 

Napoleon looked over to see how Gaby was doing--she had hit one of the four guys, leaving three guys still engaging in open fire but Napoleon could hear running down the hallways which probably meant that reinforcements were coming. Napoleon tried to reach for the gun that Gaby had left for him, but Illya's positioning made it difficult. 

 

"Are you going to help her out?" Illya said, his voice accusatory. 

 

"I'm trying," Napoleon said, trying to pull Illya over to get closer. Illya made a frustrated sound and then reached across Napoleon to grab the gun on the chair. Quick as a flash, he shot the gun three times and all three ADC members fell a second later. 

 

"Good shot," Gaby said, as she ran over. "Although I would have appreciated help a little bit sooner." She glared at Napoleon. 

 

"Yes, obviously my fault, although can we discuss this later?" Napoleon started making his and Illya's way towards the back exit of the warehouse, making sure to strategically take cover as Gaby provided back-up, taking out the ADC reinforcements coming into the warehouse. When they finally reached the back, Napoleon kicked open the door and then Gaby went first, checking to see if any reinforcements had arrived to meet them. Gaby shot out the tires of a rapidly approaching jeep, causing it to flip. 

 

When they had gotten about twenty feet away, Gaby drew in a breath. "I see four more jeeps coming and about twenty people running in our direction." 

 

"Hit it," Napoleon said. 

 

"I think we're too close," Gaby said. 

 

"We may be too close for an explosion, but if we wait thirty seconds, those people will be on us and we will be dead. I would go for the may be dead over will be dead in that situation." 

 

Gaby pressed her lips tightly and then pulled out a remote detonator. Illya had apparently gotten enough feeling back into his legs, because he started walking a bit more steadier, speeding up, so Napoleon began running, as did Gaby. Napoleon braced himself for an explosion, but nothing happened. Napoleon could hear the jeeps racing towards them and shots began to ring out all around them. They were at least a full minute away from the forest cover.  It was not looking great for the home team—or rather, the away team in this metaphor.

 

"Shit," Napoleon said. Gaby was frantically jamming the button, hissing under her breath. "Gaby, get Illya to the forest, I'll hold them off." 

 

"Don't you dare--" Gaby started.

 

"I don't need you to defend me, Cowboy," Illya said at the same time. Before either one of them could finish, there were four or five loud explosions on the grounds, the one closest to them, detonating near the jeeps as well as knocking Gaby, Illya and Napoleon over. 

 

"Ah, there we go," Gaby said, as she picked herself up. Napoleon pulled up Illya and then the three of them hobbled towards the forest, where Gaby had left their shitty Renault. They all piled in and then Gaby took off like a shot. Their car was not made for off-road driving, but Gaby made it work, although she kept looking in the rearview mirror to see if they were being followed. When they finally made it to a main road, Gaby booked it since the road was empty at this time of night. 

 

After ten minutes, when it was clear that there was no one on their tail, Napoleon looked into the backseat where Illya lay sprawled out. "How are you doing, Peril?”

 

“Fine,” he said. Napoleon did a double-take and sighed.

 

“Gaby, Peril was shot.” The car swerved slightly to the right. Illya glared at Napoleon.

 

“I said, I’m fine,” Illya said.

 

“If by fine, you mean bleeding all over Gaby’s lovely car, then yes, he is fine.”

 

“This car is piece of shit,” Illya said defiantly.

 

Napoleon crawled through to the backseat and knelt awkwardly in the well to take a look. The wound was on Illya’s right arm. Illya, ever the overachiever, had already torn a piece of his pants off and wrapped it around his arm to staunch the bleeding. Napoleon lifted up the cloth and evaluated the wound. The bullet had grazed it and was still bleeding heavily, but it didn’t appear to have nicked anything too important.

 

“He’s going to need some serious stitches, but he’ll live.”

 

“Can he make it another forty minutes until we get to Ibagué?”

 

“Yes,” Napoleon said. He wrapped his hand around Illya’s arm to keep pressure on it.

 

“I said, I’m fine,” Illya said. He brought his left hand up and made as if to pull Napoleon’s hand off. After a second, Illya closed his hand around Napoleon’s wrist and left it there instead. Napoleon was so surprised that he didn’t even say anything and kept his hand there until they arrived at their destination.

 

Gaby took them to a small apartment building in Ibagué. It was still dark enough that almost no one was out, so Napoleon and Illya were able to exit the car without attracting much attention. Once they got inside, Gaby and Napoleon conducted a silent conversation about who would go and dump the car.

 

Finally, Napoleon moved towards the door, but Gaby shook her head definitively. “I’ll do it,” she said. “I want you to stay here.” Before she left, she walked over to Illya who had sat down in a chair in the kitchen. Napoleon watched the two of them. Illya had that look on his face that he always had when he looked at Gaby—this hopeful, happy look. This was despite the fact that he was currently waiting to receive stitches for a slightly gushing wound.

 

Gaby even smiled at him—a real smile that, based on prior experience, was solely reserved for Illya—before she leaned in and placed a quick kiss on Illya’s lips. He reached up his left hand and brought Gaby in so that their foreheads touched.

 

“I’ll be back,” Gaby said after they stayed that way for a long minute. “Take care of him,” she directed to Napoleon and then headed out of the door.

 

 

 

Napoleon began stitching up Illya after Gaby left. For once, Illya didn’t make any disparaging comments or try to rile Napoleon up. Instead, Illya just watched Napoleon, barely even wincing during the process. Napoleon felt disconcerted every time he looked up to find Illya staring straight at him.

 

“What?” Napoleon said finally, once he’d finished up.

 

Illya shook his head. “Nothing.”

 

“Fine,” Napoleon said, feeling strangely thrown off. Now that the major wound had been addressed, he felt free to start looking at the other medical concerns present, such as the large bruises on Illya’s ribcage. “How broken are your ribs?” he asked.

 

“They are fine,” Illya said, causing Napoleon to utter a few choice words about idiot Russians under his breath.

 

“Ok, this probably won’t feel great,” Napoleon said. “I’m just going to make sure that they’re not in danger of causing your lung to collapse.” Napoleon gently pressed his hands against Illya’s ribcage. Illya stopped breathing, holding himself tightly. Napoleon looked up, expecting to find Illya giving Napoleon a look of frustration. Instead, he wore the same look as earlier, almost as if he was heavily concentrating on something.

 

Napoleon swallowed and then went back to feeling Illya’s ribs, trying not to dwell on the intimacy of running his hands over Illya’s chest. “Nothing feels too serious,” Napoleon said, trying to inject some lightness into his voice. “So, let’s get this face sorted out.”

 

Normally, this would be Illya’s opportunity to loudly state that his face was fine the way it is. But Illya didn’t say a word as Napoleon gently cleaned Illya’s split lip. Illya had even managed to get a cut on his nose, which Napoleon bandaged as well. Finally when Napoleon had run out of things to bandage or clean, he forced himself to stand up and walk over to the edge of the kitchen.

 

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Napoleon tried to think of something, anything to say—the weather or sports or even god damn politics, but it was like that portion of his brain had been completely turned off.

 

“I—“ Napoleon said finally, willing to just start babbling just as Illya said “You—“

 

“You go first,” Napoleon said.

 

Illya looked strangely determined as he started speaking again. “You came back.”

 

The statement took Napoleon by surprise and he felt flat footed. “Of course,” he said slowly. “What else would I have done?”

 

“Not come back,” Illya said.

 

Napoleon threw Illya a look, thinking that Illya was just being flippant. But Illya looked completely serious.

 

“I could never,” Napoleon said.

 

“But,” Illya began. Before he could finish speaking, both of them heard the sounds of someone putting the key in the door’s lock. Napoleon took a step forward, putting himself between Illya and the door and pulled out his gun, training it on whomever would be walking through. After a second, the door slowly swung open to reveal Gaby, looking no worse for the wear. Napoleon breathed a deep sigh of relief and re-holstered his gun.

 

“We are now done with that horrible thing,” Gaby announced. “Thank god. Although we will need to get another to drive when we go to Cali. But the most important thing is that we did it.”

 

Gaby squeezed Illya’s arm and then walked over to Napoleon. She leaned in as if to give Napoleon a hug and Napoleon took a step back. Both Gaby and Illya watched Napoleon as if he were an odd specimen in a zoo.

 

“You know, I think that it’s probably best if I say my goodbyes here,” Napoleon said. “It will be a lot harder to be tracked by Russia, the US, U.N.C.L.E., ADC, or any other acronyms we’ve angered, if we’re in two groups.” Napoleon had already mapped out his path to Panama, in preparation for this moment.

 

“You mean with you by yourself,” Gaby said. She had a perfectly neutral face on, making it impossible for Napoleon to read it.

 

Napoleon looked over at Illya. He wore a frown, but Napoleon couldn’t interpret what it meant. “Yeah,” Napoleon said.

 

“Why did you leave U.N.C.L.E.?” Illya asked.

 

Napoleon flicked a glance over at Gaby, but she watched him impassively. “I wanted to be doing work that was more centered on the U.S.,” Napoleon said slowly.

 

“That’s very interesting,” Gaby said. “Because this time around, when it came to choosing your old team over the CIA, you chose differently. You didn’t just pick between working at two agencies, you’ve chosen us and made it difficult, if not impossible to return to either one.”

 

“Try again,” Illya said. “Waverly said that you left for personnel reasons.”

 

“Which we are now inclined to believe,” Gaby said. “But if you cared for us enough to go rogue, then you couldn’t have left because you didn’t like us.”

 

Napoleon swallowed. How did one say that they had left because it was the less painful route? Better to cut ties and be far away than have to watch the two people that Napoleon loved the most be in love with each other.

 

“What do you want me to say?” Napoleon finally said. Illya made a sound of frustration and then slowly sat up. Both Gaby and Napoleon made an instinctive step in Illya’s direction but he fixed them with a glare that threatened death. So, instead, the two of them watched as Illya made his way over to them, each step a clear labor. Instead of stopping when he got to the edge of Napoleon’s private space, Illya took another step in, forcing Napoleon to step back until his back hit a wall. Napoleon wasn’t sure which wall—he wasn’t even sure what room he was in anymore. He couldn’t look away from the great and terrible expression on Illya’s face.

 

Just when Napoleon was considering doing something drastic, Illya looked over to Gaby, who had followed the two of them, and nodded once. Gaby gave Illya a quick smile and then stepped into Napoleon’s space as well. When they were barely more than an inch apart, Gaby went up onto her tiptoes and then lightly pressed her lips against Napoleon’s.

 

Napoleon had a moment of panic and then he decided to hell with it. Maybe this would end with Illya and/or Gaby killing him, but if that was how it was going to play out, he was going to make the most of it. So Napoleon began to kiss back and brought his arms up around Gaby. She made a noise of surprise when Napoleon pulled her close and then all but moaned into his mouth when Napoleon spanned a hand underneath Gaby’s shirt, right at her waist, and then began to gently run it up her side. Napoleon felt like he had fallen into a cool, bottomless pool and he was drowning, a death that he wanted to swim closer to. He wanted Gaby to surround him, touch him everywhere and her lips to never leave his.

 

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing harshly, Illya was still standing there. But instead of looking like he was going to murder Napoleon and hide the body out in the Colombian forest, Illya looked intrigued. No, more than intrigued. He looked hungry. Illya’s pupils were dilated and he tracked Napoleon’s lips, Illya’s glance flicking from Napoleon’s lips to Napoleon’s eyes and then back, before Illya leaned in. Illya made sure to telegraph his moves but Napoleon didn’t move away, instead, closing his eyes the moment that Illya began kissing him.

 

If kissing Gaby was like drowning, kissing Illya was like burning up. Maybe like being thrown into an active volcano because Illya was heat and teeth and pressing a hard mark into Napoleon’s collar bone while he moaned. Napoleon reached out a hand and drew Gaby back in to kiss her again—this time even messier and heated. Napoleon felt like his body was on overdrive, but it was perfect: Gaby and Illya surrounding Napoleon. Nothing else mattered outside of the three of them.

 

It was only when Napoleon had worked one of his hands over to Illya’s stomach (Illya hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on and Napoleon felt like this was not the time to mention it) that Illya let out a small hiss of pain, promptly all three of them to pull back.

 

After a few seconds, Gaby spoke first. “As much as I’m sure that we would all like to continue this, perhaps we should move to the bed. Or even better, perhaps some sleep is in order, especially those of us who haven’t slept in about a week.” She began taking off her clothes, leaving only her underwear and bra on as she opened a door to reveal a large bedroom and a large bed.

 

Illya looked more than a little sheepish at having caused the interruption, but he followed Gaby’s lead, stripping down to a pair of boxers. After a minute, Napoleon shrugged and did the same and followed them into the room. He hung back awkwardly for a beat until Gaby turned and glared at him, as if to say that he needed to get over himself. She gestured towards the middle of the bed, so cautiously, Napoleon climbed in and lay down. Within seconds, Illya had climbed in on his right side and Gaby arranged herself on his left.

 

 

 

 

To no one’s surprise, Illya fell asleep almost immediately, half of his body on Napoleon’s and Illya’s arm splayed out across Napoleon, holding Napoleon tight. Napoleon kept running his right hand through Illya’s hair, marveling that he was allowed to do this, even now.

 

Gaby, on the other side of Napoleon, was curled up tight, and she had intertwined their hands, making Napoleon all but trapped. “For someone who claims to be so smart,” Gaby said quietly as Napoleon was beginning to drift off. “You were so stupid.”

 

“It’s just—” Napoleon said, trying to find the words. “You don’t see how he looks at you.”

 

“I do,” Gaby says. “Because it’s the same way that he looks at you when he thinks you’re not looking. It’s the same way that I look at you and you look at us.”

 

Napoleon thought back to the first aid in the kitchen and Gaby’s kiss before the warehouse and he felt himself involuntarily smiling. “I suppose you’re right,” he said eventually. “I am irresistible after all.”

 

“Shut up, Cowboy,” Illya said, his words muffled against the bed. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

 

“Too late,” Napoleon said. “You’re stuck with me now.”

 

Illya made a grumbling sound, but he didn’t protest it, instead, tightening his grip on Napoleon. Gaby pressed a gentle kiss against Napoleon’s hand. Lying there with the two of them should have felt awkward, forced even, but instead, for the first time in a very long time, Napoleon felt completely at ease. After all, he was finally back with his team.


End file.
